


Just Enough to Hang Yourself

by ashurbadaktu



Category: Sky High
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-21
Updated: 2009-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-04 22:56:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashurbadaktu/pseuds/ashurbadaktu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will finds out something about Warren that sends him reeling.  The only thing is, the part that sends him reeling isn't what he thought it would be.  Future fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Enough to Hang Yourself

It had felt like a gunshot to the heart.

Actually, it had felt like a gunshot to the heart would feel for a normal person. Bullets, as a rule, tended to bounce off of him harmlessly; that happened on occasion when you were nearly indestructible.

That was probably why it hurt so badly.

He hadn't expected it. It was unexpectable. He'd just been walking to work, minding his own business, wondering if he'd actually get his article finished before he was called away to battle a giant shellfish monster or something, when he saw it.

_ **BATTLETORCH AND LANTERN BOY: A COUPLE?** _

Bright red letters on the front of a gaudy tabloid, complete with a picture of two men hastily slapping on masks and other important pieces of clothing. The shot was blurred, of course, and somewhat tilted as the cameraman had no doubt started running almost as soon as the flash had gone off, but Will could tell as he looked at the picture that the men in the photo were his friends.

Warren.

And Zach.

In bed together.

Zach, who had become something of a sidekick for hire, didn't exactly surprise him. It wasn't that he'd thought that Zach was gay so much as Zach was attracted to easy sex. Will, as much as he considered Zach a friend, had to admit that his former classmate was exceedingly easy. He'd never heard of him taking to men before, but it wasn't all that shocking. Nothing Zach did was all that shocking.

It was Warren that struck him, Warren's image that made every muscle in his body tense up, that made his eyes close in pure disbelief. Warren Peace, resident badass of Sky High and one of Will's best friends in bed with another man. There might be a mask over his eyes and there might be a little blurring in the picture, but Will knew Warren. Knew the way his hair fell around his face, knew the lines of his muscles and the way he moved. He knew how Warren sat, how Warren looked at almost every angle and he had to admit to himself that the figure in the picture was Warren.

And that hurt.

But he wasn't sure why.

Of course, there was the obvious hurt from the betrayal of a friend. Will considered Warren his _best_ friend, and the idea that the other man hadn't felt comfortable in telling him about his sexuality bothered him a great deal.

Did Warren think it just wasn't important enough to share? That might work; Warren had funny ideas about some things. But the more he tried to wrap his mind around it, the more he refused to accept that. No, Warren was close-lipped about things for the most part, but that was major enough that it would have come out.

Should have come out.

Had Warren thought that perhaps he, Will Stronghold, was too straight-laced to deal with a gay friend? Had he thought Will wouldn't understand, or would have scorned him for his choice of an alternative lifestyle? The idea that such might be true both hurt and irritated him in equal measures as he'd always thought of himself as a very fair individual who judged people on who they were as opposed to anything else. Warren knew that, had known him since high school, and he couldn't imagine Warren avoiding the topic for _that_ reason.

Or maybe, and he realized how much of a stretch it was as his friend had always been very self-aware, _maybe_ Warren had just discovered his true sexuality and hadn't had a chance to figure things out enough to the point where he could explain it to him. Maybe Warren hadn't told him because he hadn't been sure yet. That sounded the most appealing, though Will privately reminded himself that it was the most unlikely.

_Either way_, Will thought as he rounded the corner which would bring him to his office in a few short moments, _I'm going to have to talk to him tonight, if only to be there to put out the flames when he invariably rages about the tabloid story._

As such, he put in a call to Layla as he sat down at his desk, telling his wife that he'd be home some hours later than usual (he was unsure of how many hours, of course, but Layla was both well informed as to what Will would be there to help with as well as worried about Warren herself). Then he settled down at his desk to get to work on his article concerning the water table toxicity levels in Maxville.

* * *

He knocked on Warren's door three times before he heard a response. It wasn't the response he'd been looking for, of course, but it was a slurred and angry shout that said he could get in if he damn well pleased and that he shouldn't worry about the door as it was being replaced tomorrow anyway. Will discovered why when he made his way in and noted the heavy burn damage on the other side.

"Warren?"

His first concern was Warren, of course, but he couldn't help but take in the damage. The apartment was, in a word, a mess. Warren, despite his devil-may-care attitude, was a neat freak who kept his living space meticulously clean. More than once, Will had been death-glared into using a coaster on the coffee table.

But now there were burn marks in the coffee table, on the couch, in the walls. There were none near the bookshelf, but Will regrettably had to admit that that had more to do with the bookshelf's position around the corner from the main area of the living room than any respect for books. That worried him.

Warren's 'mild-mannered' (the job he took as a cover for his heroic activities) was that of a children's book author. It would seem odd to just about anyone but his closest friends, but Warren had a bizarre insight into things that served well for his writing and a sly twist of wit that could turn a joke just for a child that might leave an adult confounded.

But those books sat on the coffee table, a few of them burned like everything else and that told him more than anything else that something was _wrong_.

"Warren? Warren? It's me--Will."

Another growl, but this time he was close enough to pinpoint the source: Warren's bedroom.

He hadn't gone to the room much, despite the many times he'd come to the apartment. It wasn't that he avoided it, of course, but it just wasn't a place he'd ever really visited. Usually they stayed in the living room or the kitchen, occasionally venturing into the library for a time on those occasions when Warren felt like creaming him in chess. But he did know where the bedroom was, just past the door for the bathroom, and he took the same liberty with this door as he'd taken with the other.

Warren was on the bed in his costume, bits and pieces of sheet torn or burned around him. Two twists of fabric near his hands were badly burned, leaving black holes in the red cotton material; the stink of burnt cloth wafted through the air, telling Will those burns were recent. Perhaps even from when he'd first stepped into the apartment.

"Warren?"

The figure on the bed stirred, dark eyes opening in a flash as the familiar voice ground out a snarling 'What?'

Will stepped closer, putting down his briefcase and jacket.

"Uh, I... that is, I, uh, saw, uh, something on my way to work, and I--;"

Warren sat up almost as fast as he'd opened his eyes and glared at Will.

"What? You thought you'd come over and console the poor little queer? Is that it? Thought you'd come over and tell me it was all going to be all right? That my friends wouldn't care? That it would all blow over in a week or so?"

He threw himself back onto the bed angrily and his hands curled into burning fists. Will winced and stepped closer to take Warren's arms in his own hands.

"Okay, this? Isn't constructive. And you should know that I came over here because I'm your friend... and I should hope that's worth... well, at least a little appreciation."

Warren laughed then, and it was a sick sound. A tired sound. He moved slowly this time, peering up at Will with mocking eyes and a knowing smirk.

"Oh, that's rich. That's just--that's just _great_. Captain Astounding himself is deigning to grace my apartment with his presence and--"

Will shook his head roughly, cutting him off.

"No, Will came to see his friend Warren because he figured he was probably having a bad day and might need someone to talk to."

Warren didn't have anything to say to that, deciding to turn away from Will and pull his knees up to his chest.

"He, uh, also was wondering why his friend Warren didn't tell him about this."

There was a pause, as if Warren was considering which weak point in Will's comments to attack first, before he finally spoke again.

"Why aren't you at Zach's apartment?"

Will chuckled softly before giving a shrug that Warren might not see but certainly could hear.

"Because Zach's Zach. And besides, he's got Magenta to talk to him about it."

Another bout of silence passed between them before Will stepped closer. Warren's body visibly tensed, but he didn't curl away. Will took this as a good sign.

"I just came over to help, man. I was worried."

"And wondering" Warren added as he turned, stretching his back even as he moved to face Will again, "why this was the first you'd heard about it."

Will nodded.

"Yeah. I mean, I thought we were best friends and this kinda--"

Will looked away and shuffled his feet. He didn't want to admit it had hurt, because it wouldn't be fair to make this about him when Warren was the one with the problem, but he couldn't deny that it hurt.

"Came out of nowhere?" Warren completed for him.

Will nodded.

Warren turned then before pushing up from the bed and standing. Now, years after they'd all graduated from high school, Warren was still some inches taller than Will. And he moved the same, stalked with the cool arrogance of someone who knows exactly who and what they are and doesn't mind it one bit. Will had always envied him that walk; no matter how strong he was or how fast he could fly, he'd never be that comfortable in his own skin.

Warren walked up to Will now and stared down at him.

"It didn't come out of nowhere."

Will looked up and the confused expression on his face said all that needed saying. Warren actually smiled at that, though only a little.

"Man, Stronghold, sometimes I wonder about you. It's not like I've been drowning in girlfriends."

Which _had_ always confused him. Warren was attractive; there was no way anyone could miss that as far as he was concerned. Furthermore, Battletorch had saved his fair share of damsels and Will was well aware that a few of them had tried to slip him a phone number once or twice. There'd even been one girl who'd run into a battle to do just that. But Warren had ignored them, usually giving them a disdainful sniff before burning the love notes and phone numbers to ash right in front of their faces. Oddly enough, this only made the rest of them more determined.

"Well, uh, _no_, I had noticed that, of course. But, uh, you didn't say anything so I didn't want to assume."

Warren stared at him for a moment, as if reading him like one of his favored fortune cookie fortunes, before smirking down at Will.

"You really want to know, Stronghold?"

Will looked up at Warren, into those dark eyes, and nodded. He cared about his friend. He wanted to know what was going on and how he could help and that was the first part of it.

…which is why Will was utterly unprepared when Warren leaned down and pulled him into a scorching hot kiss.

There was a moment when Will's eyes went wide, when his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides in pure shock…but then Warren's hand slipped to the back of his neck and into his hair. His head tilted up, deepening the kiss, and Warren tugged him closer. Will couldn't believe this, couldn't believe this was happening…

Couldn't believe he was kissing him back.

Warren obviously couldn't believe it either because he pulled back after a moment, lips plumped and reddened by the kiss. One irrational moment had Will wanting to suck on them, had him wanting to see if he could get them any redder, and then he too pulled away, blinking but not sputtering.

He wasn't up to sputtering, not with the taste of Warren still on his lips.

One hand reached up, touching his bottom lip as if to make sure it was still his, to make sure that he'd just _done_ that because his mind was having trouble computing it.

Warren.

He'd kissed Warren.

Or rather, Warren had kissed him. And he'd kissed him back.

For almost—he looked down at his watch—two minutes.

"I've wanted to do that since senior year."

Warren's voice was soft, almost apologetic…or as apologetic as the other man ever got.

Will couldn't appreciate it, however, as he was too busy blinking and trying to figure out when exactly reality had taken a left turn at Albuquerque.

"You…kissed me."

Warren shook his head and let out a soft laugh.

"No shit, Sherlock."

Will shook his head a moment before pointing a finger at Warren, his arm shaking.

"No, no, no. You _kissed_ me."

Warren nodded slowly.

"Got it in one, Stronghold."

"You're gay and you kissed me."

Another nod.

"And…I kissed you back."

Warren seemed to think this one over for a moment before nodding again. Yes, as far as he'd noticed, Will _had_ in fact kissed him back.

Will, for his part, sat on the bed with a thump. He didn't do anything for a moment, the circuits of his brain too busy processing to begin on anything else, before he looked up to Warren.

"What does this mean?"

Warren shrugged, apparently taking it in stride.

"I don't know. What does it mean to you?"

Will didn't know what it meant to him. He knew he was married. He knew that he loved his wife very much, that she was his best friend, and that they'd planned a life together. He knew that he could walk out this door right now and Warren wouldn't hate him. Warren would…

For some reason, he knew, Warren would understand.

But he also knew that he'd think of the kiss. He knew that he'd remember the taste of Warren's lips, the heat. He knew that he couldn't get rid of the feel of Warren's fingers tangling in his hair, brushing the delicate skin at the back of his neck. He knew that he couldn't stop staring at the elegant lines of his jaw, the twist at the edge of his lips that always seemed ready to turn into a smirk. He knew that he wouldn't forget the odd pleasantness of a hot, hard body against his own, the scent of leather and cologne and Warren, Warren's skin and the soft brush of his hair…

And he couldn't walk out the door.

"Layla—"

Warren snorted.

"Why do you think I haven't said anything till now? It's not like I was confused."

Will looked away, turning a bit red…especially since _he_ was now very very confused. They were like that for a time, Will sitting on the bed, dumb, as Warren stood, glancing down at him occasionally as if to wonder what he was still doing there.

"W-w-what does this mean?"

Warren shrugged.

"I don't know. I kinda put the ball in your court, man. With the whole 'kissing you' bit."

Will blinked. Ball. In his court. His court. His ball. Warren. Kissing him.

Blink.

"But—"

"I didn't do this with expectations, Stronghold. You asked, I answered."

Will stood.

"I need to think about this."

_No. No, you don't. There's nothing to think about. You're married. You're very very married and you're very very happy._

But that kiss…

Warren watched Will with a look that would be amused if it wasn't so curious. Or perhaps the better term would be 'anxious'.

"I'll see you around?"

It was as much of an out as Warren was going to give him. Will nodded mutely. Warren nodded in reply to that before going around the bed to lay down again. He gave Will a sideways glance in a prompt to get off of his bed.

Will _promptly_ obeyed.

There was nothing else to say then, nothing else to do but walk out. He made his way past the doorway of Warren's bedroom without looking back, which he considered an accomplishment, but as he wandered past the scorched pieces of Warren's life on his way to the front door, he couldn't _help_ looking back.

The angle only let him see a slice of the room, one sliver, as wide as Will's thumb at the most. But that sliver was enough to give him a view of things he'd seen but never _seen_, enough to make him start thinking.

A perfect column of throat, golden in the warm lighting and brushed with long dark hair at one side. The edge of still-red lips quirked just so, the edge of a dark eyebrow flat and smooth over closed eyes with lashes that were a little long for most men, but on Warren…

He turned.

And opened the door.

And walked out.

Thinking.

 

**The End**


End file.
